


Never Did Run Smooth

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-03
Updated: 2011-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The course of true love never did run smooth. (Or, Kurt and Blaine might be perfect for each other, but they are not perfect.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Did Run Smooth

**Author's Note:**

> set in the summer after season 2, but only a few incidental spoilers for 2x22 “New York”

Blaine wanted a shower.

No, that wasn’t a strong enough way to put it. Blaine needed a shower. Blaine hungered for a shower. Blaine was _desperate_ for a shower. Blaine was so desperate for a shower that he would have promised never to jump on furniture again. He would have given up french fries for a month. He would have given up at least half of the Warblers solos for the upcoming year. (As a trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck and into the itchy collar of his already soaked shirt he revised that number to two-thirds of the solos.) He would have given up his mint Millennium Falcon still in its box _signed by Harrison Ford and Sir Alec Guinness_ , which rested out of the sunlight in the prime place on the top shelf of the bookcase in his childhood bedroom.

About the only thing he wouldn’t consider giving up for a shower at that moment was Kurt, and if he didn’t talk to Kurt right away he’d miss him for the night, because pre-bed skin care time was sacrosanct in Kurt’s world and could neither be interrupted nor delayed. Since Blaine’s summer performance schedule at the park made it hard to get together as often as they liked around Kurt’s hours at his dad’s shop, talking had to be the high point of his most days. So instead of diving into the cool, cool stream of clean water he wanted so badly to enjoy he draped a towel over his desk chair and slumped into it. Almost as soon as he logged into Skype a call came in.

“You’re late,” Kurt said when his image popped up on the screen. He wrinkled his nose and said, “And dirty. Extremely dirty.” He, of course, looked both cool and composed, but he pretty much always did.

“I was helping Julian clean out his car,” Blaine said. He wished he’d had the forethought to grab some ice water before he’d come upstairs; he was incredibly thirsty, and he could have pressed the glass to his sticky, overheated skin.

“Why?”

“I owed him a favor,” Blaine explained, and since the favor was to switch performance shifts at the park to be able to spend Saturday night with Kurt he wasn’t sorry that he’d just spent two hours digging out the heaps of discarded, half-full food wrappers and vacuuming stained upholstery inside a car as hot as an oven from a full day of baking in the summer sun. He didn’t even like Julian, but it was worth it. Still, he really wanted to shower off the grime.

“Why?” Kurt asked again, and then he shook his head. He leaned forward toward the camera, his eyes alight. “Never mind. I have news!”

Blaine was helpless not to smile. “Tell me.”

“Mercedes’ church is putting on a fashion show,” Kurt said. “You know, the kind that’s all pastels and hats.” He gestured with his long, expressive fingers to the sides of his head and wiggled them, apparently to illustrate large headgear. Either that or small headgear with tentacles. Knowing Kurt, it could be either.

“Great.” Blaine knew how much Kurt liked fashion shows, even if only to criticize the clothing. “When is it?”

“Sunday. But that’s not the best part!” Kurt’s smile stretched wide and delighted. “Mrs. Jones asked me to style her, Mercedes, and a few of their friends.”

“That’s great, Kurt. You’ll have fun with that.”

Kurt nodded, still smiling. “I mean, I’m going to have to be very conservative. Nothing too fabulous, even if I think Mercedes could rock the right McQueen almost as well as I do. But still!” He clapped his hands with delight. “Runway! I have so many plans!”

Blaine scratched surreptitiously at his hair and hoped the itch behind his ear was just from drying sweat and not one of the ten thousand bugs that had been living in Julian’s back seat. “I’m happy for you,” he said. He felt the knot in his neck loosening just from being able to talk to Kurt, a slow molasses warmth building in him that had nothing to do with the heat outside. The only way it would have been better was if they were together and Blaine were clean and curled up beside Kurt while they talked, but he’d get to do that soon.

“Thank you. Of course, it means that we’ll have to move our date on Saturday, because I’ll need to go shopping and start on the pre-show prep with the ladies, but... _fashion show_!”

It took a second for Blaine to catch up with what Kurt was saying instead of focusing on his happy thoughts and the glass of water taunting him from his view of Kurt’s desk. “Wait, what?”

“Do you think I have time to have them all put in fire engine red weaves?” Kurt continued, tapping his finger thoughtfully against his chin.

“Kurt, wait. What about Saturday?”

“No, there won’t be time on Saturday. I will need at least six hours for shopping.” Kurt blinked and re-focused on his monitor and Blaine who was on it. “Oh, you mean about us?”

“Yes,” Blaine said, and he somehow managed not to grit his teeth while doing so. He took a calming breath. “You have to move our date?”

Kurt nodded. “Like I said, I will need the time with the ladies to prep for the show on Sunday.”

“But - “

“We could do Sunday night. Or, no, the show isn’t until the afternoon. You could come, if you wanted.” His eyes went a little soft and hopeful.

Blaine shut his own eyes for a minute and tried to remind himself how important this sort of thing was to Kurt. It wasn’t fair for Blaine to be upset just because he’d rearranged his schedule and had ruined a perfectly good shirt (and probably his jeans, as well, he realized as he looked down at them) to make it happen. Kurt hadn’t known what Blaine had planned. He didn’t know about the theatre tickets Blaine had spent almost his entire paycheck to purchase. This was a great opportunity for Kurt, and they’d been dating long enough that a couple-of-month anniversary really wasn’t that important. He shouldn’t be angry. “I have to work on Sunday.”

“Right.” Kurt smiled sadly. “I’ll take lots of pictures. You can get them on your phone between songs. I expect commentary!”

“I - “

Kurt tilted his head and looked at him through the screen. “Blaine? Are you okay?”

Blaine nodded and was glad that they weren’t talking in person so he didn’t have to make actual eye contact. “I’m disappointed, that’s all.” He was also the king of understatement, apparently.

“Yes, I’m sorry you can’t be there, too.”

Something in Blaine snapped. He was hot, he was unhappy, he was kind of really fucking lonely at his job without any of his friends, he wanted to spend time with his boyfriend on their _monthiversary_ , and he just couldn’t take it. “That’s great, Kurt. Well, _I’m_ sorry you can’t be there for our _date_.”

Kurt drew back in his chair, his face settling into a far cooler expression. “This is a wonderful opportunity for me to explore my talents beyond my own personal style,” he said crisply. “I thought you were happy for me. We can reschedule our date.”

Blaine’s chest hurt, and it felt like he could barely draw air into his lungs. “You know what? Maybe not.” And with that, he shut down Skype and after a minute of careful breathing turned off his computer entirely.

It didn’t even feel good to slam the bathroom door shut when he went to take his shower. The water itself, however, was heavenly.

*

Kurt stared at the Skype home screen for a minute before slowly moving his hand to the mouse and closing the application. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Obviously, Blaine was angry, although why he should be angry about Kurt rescheduling their plans when he’d had to move their time together around _twice_ in the past three weeks because of his shifting work schedule Kurt didn’t know. It was hardly fair, especially since it was such a great opportunity, but obviously his support of Kurt only went so far. Maybe not far at all, given how he had ended the conversation.

Hurt was blooming deep in Kurt’s chest, and he shoved it away with the practice of years. His back straight, he stood and went to perform his skin care regime. It was important to him, and he would do it perfectly even if no one else cared about the things that meant something to him. Which, it was clear, no one did. He didn’t know why it surprised him anymore.

*

Blaine had cooled off more than physically by the time he was finished with his shower, and if he couldn’t even look at his desk he did pick up his phone as he flopped onto his bed. He knew this was a big deal for Kurt, and even though Blaine was upset about the loss of his big romantic evening he knew he needed to pull himself together and be a good boyfriend, anyway. He’d reply to the confused queries Kurt must have sent, and he’d find a way to stop being angry that this fashion show that really wouldn’t even showcase Kurt’s abilities had interfered with his plans.

There were no missed calls, messages, or texts on Blaine’s phone.

He stared at it for a minute. He knew he ought to reach out, himself, and apologize, but he just... couldn’t. Despite the image he tried to put forth, despite how hard he tried, he wasn’t perfect. He was hurt. He didn’t want to have to be the bigger man this time. He didn’t want to have to be the one begging for crumbs in Kurt’s life.

Blaine put the phone down on the bed beside him and closed his eyes. Maybe he’d feel better in the morning.

There was still no text or message from Kurt when Blaine woke. Nor was there anything when he checked after the eleven or three o’clock shows. Finally, when he got in his car to go home, Blaine sent off a quick _You okay?_ text and pulled out of the lot because he simply couldn’t sit there and wait for a reply.

 _I am out with friends_ , was Kurt’s response a long ten minutes later. It was hardly an answer. Blaine wondered if it was significant that Kurt didn’t mention with whom he was out, only that they were _friends_. It probably was.

*

Kurt stared at the brief, cold message from Blaine for another minute before slipping his phone back into his bag. “Sorry,” he said to Mercedes, who was sitting across the booth from him beside Rachel. “Please continue.”

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Of course.” He forced himself to smile. “Now tell me more about these shoes you just bought.”

*

Blaine fell asleep that night on the family room couch watching TV, because he didn’t feel like going to his room and seeing the computer screen staring at him and his parents weren’t there to stop him. He woke up groggy, stiff, and out of sorts, and his blank phone gave him no comfort.

With a sigh, he picked himself up off the couch and threw himself into his work. He danced and sang his aching heart out for the next few days, pretending nothing was wrong in front of his perfectly nice co-workers whom he would have adored the year before and whom he could only compare to real friends now that he realized how good they felt to have. He gave away the theatre tickets with a deceptively easy smile and spent Saturday night in Thad’s basement with a few of the local Warblers, playing video games and singing stupid songs. Once Thad’s parents headed to bed, the boys broke out the hidden stash of vodka, and if Blaine got morose instead of bouncy once he was plastered none of the Warblers said anything about it in the morning.

He still hadn’t heard anything from Kurt. Apparently he wasn’t worth the effort.

The summer wasn’t supposed to be like this, Blaine thought as he let the water run over him in the shower the next morning before work. It was supposed to have been full of lazy days lying in the shade with his head on Kurt’s thigh and Kurt’s fingers in his hair. It was supposed to be dinners out with late curfew and no homework looming over their heads. It was supposed to be _theirs_. Instead, they’d been caught up in a whirlwind of work and family obligations, making their time together just as precious and rare as it was during the school year, and now they didn’t have anything at all.

He stood in the shower until it ran cold.

*

Sunday was yet another day without any communication from Blaine, but Kurt held his head high and focused on making his part of the fashion show as flawless as he could. If his smile was cool it was also in place during every single picture after the show.

“How was your first runway show?” Mercedes asked after giving him a hug so tight that he squeaked. “Was it everything you dreamed of?”

“I hadn’t imagined quite so many pastels surrounding my models, but otherwise it was amazing. I had no idea your mother could strut like that.”

“I know! Did you send Blaine pictures? What did he think? Didn’t we rock it?” She struck a pose.

Kurt’s heart sank as he was forced to think about the person he was trying to avoid contemplating. He knew the event would have been a hundred times better if he’d been able to share it, but that obviously wasn’t an option. Blaine’s actions or lack thereof had made that perfectly clear. “I didn’t send him anything.”

“What’s going on?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice.

Frowning, she asked more quietly, “Kurt?”

“Not here, Mercedes. Please.”

“Okay.” She put a hand on his arm but kept an eye on him through the rest of the night. He knew she wasn’t going to let it go, and he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that he’d finally be able to talk about it or to dread the fact that all of the hurt and frustration inside him was going to feel a whole hell of a lot more real once he did.

*

Blaine went through the motions at work, but the days passed he grew off-kilter enough that his leading lady, who was usually so self-absorbed that she put Rachel to shame, actually asked him if he was feeling okay.

“I’m just tired,” he said. “And kind of sick to my stomach.”

“Well, have some caffeine and pop an antacid or five,” Claire told him, “because you’re seriously throwing me off in our duet. You’re supposed to be flirting with me, not looking like you’re keeping yourself from puking on my shoes. And, by the way, if you do I will be making you pay for new ones.”

“You’re right. Sorry.” The next performance he threw himself into the songs with all of the energy he had, and if he still felt like he might throw up at any moment he apparently did a better job of hiding it. Claire even smiled at him at the end of the day.

Determined to keep up appearances, he went out with some of the cast that evening to play miniature golf and tried to convince himself that he was having a good time. They were fun people. He could like them. He could be friends with them.

Still, that night when he was lying in bed and trying not to think about the one person he _wanted_ to spend time with, Blaine realized that the churning in his gut wasn’t anger anymore. It wasn’t even the longing he expected from missing Kurt. It was fear.

It had been well over a week and a half, and Kurt hadn’t called. He hadn’t even sent him a text. Kurt, who had stood up to bullies and who always spoke his mind even when it wasn’t the easy thing to do, hadn’t said a word to him.

Blaine knew it was normal for people to be upset in a relationship sometimes, but Kurt had had a hard enough time in his life that maybe it was a bigger deal for him. Maybe he wanted something easier. Blaine was still hurt, yes, but he wasn’t done with Kurt. He hadn’t texted, either, because he’d wanted to feel like Kurt was making an effort to reach out when Blaine was hurt. But maybe it wasn’t about making an effort. Maybe Kurt was done with _him_.

Blaine tossed and turned for the rest of the night, unable to do more than doze.

*

“Hey, how’s Blaine?” Kurt’s father asked when Kurt went to say goodnight. “He hasn’t been around in a while. You want to invite him over for dinner?”

“He’s busy, Dad,” Kurt said, his voice steady but soft. He couldn’t pretend any more than that.

Kurt’s father looked at him more closely. “Is that all?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt admitted, swallowing hard, and his father pulled him in for a hug.

*

Blaine composed a dozen texts - _Coffee? Can we talk? Do you still love me? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m still hurt, but I’m sorry._ \- before discarding them all. He didn’t know what to do. He knew his initial impulse to get the Warblers together and find Kurt and serenade him wasn’t the right one, but otherwise he was at a loss.

He had no idea what Kurt was thinking. He had to be really mad not to be communicating at all. But why was he mad? That Blaine had snapped at him? That Blaine hadn’t gone to his fashion show? That Blaine hadn’t called? All of the above?

Blaine needed to know what was going on so he knew how to approach him. He had to get some information. Mercedes was the obvious choice, but he wasn’t sure she’d tell him anything. Rachel would tell him many things, but their accuracy would be in serious doubt. He settled on Finn.

Finn picked up after the sixth ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Finn. It’s Blaine.” He was proud of how composed he sounded.

“Blaine? Dude, I can’t talk to you.”

Blaine’s heart sank; he hadn’t even considered that he’d have to wait. Of course Finn had other things to do. “I can call later. When will you be free?”

“No, I mean. Didn’t you and Kurt break up? He’s my brother; I’ve got to be on his side.”

It took Blaine a minute to make his voice work. “We - he - We did?”

“You didn’t? I mean, he doesn’t talk about you anymore, and he’s been super sarcastic and kind of cold. Like he gets when he’s upset but doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I - “ Blaine could barely think over the pounding of his heart. “We didn’t have a conversation about breaking up.”

“Really? Huh.” Finn sounded pretty confused.

“We haven’t talked in a while, though,” Blaine admitted. “Or texted or anything.”

“I don’t know, dude, but that kind of doesn’t sound like you’re dating.”

“Oh, my god,” Blaine said. He leaned forward in his chair to try to keep from passing out as all of the blood rushed from his head from the idea.

“Sorry. It sucks. Anyway, I should go. Brothers and all.”

Blaine nodded, and it took him a minute to realize that Finn couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Okay.”

He stayed bent over in the chair for a while, because he didn’t know what else to do.

*

“Hey, Kurt?” Finn peeked his head into Kurt’s room that night.

Kurt looked up from where he was lounging on his bed, listlessly flipping through a magazine. “Yes?”

“I kind of think the bros before hos thing doesn’t always make sense, but since we _are_ actually bros I wanted you to know that when Blaine called me I totally took your side and didn’t tell him anything.” He smiled encouragingly.

“Blaine called?” Kurt sat very, very still. “He called _you_?”

Finn nodded. “But I didn’t say anything. I mean, I did, because it would have been weird to be on the phone with him and be silent, but I didn’t, like, _say_ anything.”

“Okay.” Kurt toyed with the edge of the pages for a moment and asked quietly, “What did he want?”

“Um, I don’t know, really. I told him I couldn’t talk to him because you guys broke up, and he said okay, and that was kind of it.”

“Oh.” There it was, the reality of their situation. There wasn’t a question anymore. It wasn’t just a fight that had gone on too long. Kurt told himself he wasn’t going to tear up, at least not in front of Finn.

“You did break up? Because you didn’t say anything.” Finn looked a little hurt.

“I guess I didn’t want to believe it.”

*

Over the course of their friendship and then their romantic relationship, a number of Kurt’s belongings had found their way into Blaine’s possession: a Dalton sweater, a few of his pens, his copy of _Catcher in the Rye_ , even one of his favorite hats, which he’d placed on Blaine’s head with a twinkle in his eyes at the end of a particularly nice evening after Blaine had spent the day trying to steal it from him. The sweater still held a whiff of Kurt’s aftershave.

Blaine looked sadly at the small pile on his bed. It was what you did, right? Give back the other person’s stuff when you broke up? It didn’t seem like much, given how Kurt had insinuated his way into every part of Blaine’s life, not to mention his heart. He felt like a relationship ought to have left more of a footprint than this pile of _stuff_. He still had all of the pictures and music they had shared, but it didn’t seem like an adequate representation of the enormity of their feelings for each other.

The thought of them having broken up hurt more than Blaine could express; it was like some part of his heart had been scooped out of his chest. It ached so much it left him breathless. But he was also angry, angry that Kurt could make a unilateral decision about their relationship because of _one fight_ and not even _tell him_.

Blaine stopped in his tracks, frowning. That didn’t actually sound like Kurt at all. Neither of them might have had much (any) experience in having a boyfriend, but if nothing else they were both good at talking, at least to each other.

He grabbed his phone and typed out _We should talk. Are you free this afternoon?_ before he could change his mind.

*

Kurt slid out from under the car and wiped his hands on a rag before fishing the phone out of his coverall pocket. When he saw the text was from Blaine he headed into the garage’s office before sitting down to read it.

A part of him wanted to refuse the invitation outright, but this was Blaine. He wasn’t going to say no. Instead he considered how long it would take to finish the oil change he was in the middle of, get home, shower, fix his hair, and dress to kill.

 _I will be at the Lima Bean at 3_ , he replied.

 _See you there_ , Blaine texted back immediately.

Closing his eyes and wrapping his hands around his phone, Kurt took a deep breath. He could do this. He and Blaine could always talk to each other, and regardless of what had happened and what was going to happen he really, really didn’t want to lose Blaine as a friend. It might hurt more than anything, but he could do this.

*

When Kurt walked in precisely at three, Blaine was waiting for him. It had been only two weeks since they’d seen each other, but the sight of him still took Blaine’s breath away. To be fair, he reminded himself, even an absence of two hours could do that.

Kurt pulled himself up a little straighter when he saw Blaine sitting at a table out of the way with two drinks in front of him. He was dressed, well, like Kurt, in tight jeans and a long striped shirt that might have been called slinky on someone less composed. A crocheted summer scarf was draped around his neck. He looked perfect, calm and collected, but his hands were gripping the strap of his bag in a sign of nerves as easy to read for Blaine as the menu on the wall.

“Hi,” Blaine said as Kurt sat in the chair across from him and set his bag on the floor.

“Hello.”

“That’s for you.” Blaine gestured to the cup and lifted his own to his mouth.

“Thank you,” Kurt replied, but he made no move to touch it.

“I didn’t poison it or anything.”

Kurt’s mouth compressed, and Blaine couldn’t tell if it was with amusement or annoyance. “How thoughtful.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, and his own annoyance colored the word.

Kurt deflated a little, his eyes looking slightly lost. “Sorry.” He pulled the cup toward him and fiddled with the sleeve around it for a second, then drew himself up again and said, “I see you are still convinced that flip-flops are appropriate attire for more than just public pools and gym showers.”

Blaine wasn’t sure how Kurt could see his feet under the table, but he’d always had a sixth sense about anything to do with fashion. The familiarity of the complaint made him close his eyes for a moment against a flood of longing. “It’s summer.”

“That’s hardly an excuse for poor fashion choices.”

Blaine couldn’t help but smile, even though it wasn’t much of one. But it was _Kurt_ right there in front of him, being himself, and Blaine had missed him _so much_.

Kurt smiled a little in return, though the expression disappeared so quickly it had obviously slipped past his formidable defenses. It made Blaine feel just a little bit hopeful. “I know you didn’t ask me here to talk about fashion, impeccable as my taste may be,” Kurt said.

“I don’t know what I called you here to talk about,” Blaine admitted, and Kurt recoiled almost imperceptibly. Blaine knew him way too well not to notice it. “No. I don’t mean it like that. All I know is that we should talk.”

“Okay.” Kurt leaned slowly back against the chair. “Let’s talk.”

Blaine took a deep breath and held it for a second, trying to figure out what to say. “Well, this is going to be a lot harder than I thought.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Kurt told him, pushing his cup away an inch. “I think you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear over the past couple of weeks.”

“And _that’s_ what I want to talk about,” Blaine said, feeling a flicker of annoyance starting to run through him.

Kurt set his jaw more tightly and gestured for Blaine to continue before crossing his arms over his chest. Blaine had never seen him so closed-off and controlled, not with him. That hurt, too.

“Kurt.” The name sounded more like a plea than Blaine had planned. “You’ve got to give me something, here.”

“I do? I do, Blaine? Really? After not talking to me for weeks, you think I need to give _you_ something?”

“You didn’t talk to me, either,” Blaine pointed out.

Kurt looked away for a moment, and Blaine knew he’d scored a point. Not that he wanted to score any points against Kurt, really; he would have given up the entire game if he could have had things be good between them again.

“Okay,” Kurt said finally. “Fine. Neither of us called.” He searched Blaine’s face through narrowed eyes. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t. I thought you were my friend, if nothing else.”

 _And a point for Kurt_ , Blaine thought, unable to keep from wincing as the barb landed. He wasn’t the only one at fault, but he _was_ at fault. He knew that.

“I am, Kurt,” he said softly. He looked down at his cup, because he needed a break from the judgment in Kurt’s face. “But I was hurt. Am hurt.”

“ _You’re_ hurt?”

Blaine nodded and told himself to keep talking. “Yes, and I guess I needed a little time to get over it. Maybe to see if you’d call _me_.”

“Was this some sort of test?”

“No. No. It was... I don’t know what it was. It just happened. And you didn’t call.”

Kurt was quiet long enough that Blaine had to look back up at him. The steely facade of a few minutes earlier had been replaced by something more contemplative and vulnerable. “I didn’t think you wanted me to,” he said finally.

“What? Why?”

“You didn’t want to reschedule our date.” Kurt barely put voice to he last word.

“Of course I didn’t want to reschedule our date!”

Kurt just sat there watching him mutely, his eyes soft with hurt. Blaine hated that he was the one who had made him look like that.

“I didn’t want to reschedule our date because I wanted to see you,” he said. “I really, really wanted to see you. And I’d made all of these stupid plans without telling you.”

“You did?”

Blaine shrugged, because he really didn’t want to talk about them. “So I got upset.” He took another deep breath and added, “I know it’s stupid, but it felt like I was your lowest priority. Which I know wasn’t true.”

“And I thought you didn’t care about me getting to do something important to me,” Kurt said, filling in his half of the fight.

“Which also wasn’t true.”

Kurt slowly unfolded his arms and put one hand on the table while the other fell into his lap. His fingers rubbed the slightly sticky surface of the table. “I assumed... I assumed when you didn’t call that you didn’t want to reschedule because you didn’t want to see me at all.”

The raw emotion beneath the soft words knocked the breath out of Blaine’s lungs, and he made an aborted attempt to take Kurt’s hand before remembering himself and keeping his own hand in his lap. He really didn’t know what he would do if Kurt rejected the overture. “I did,” he said. “So much.”

Kurt looked away sharply, his brows furrowed and his mouth compressed into a firm line as he presented his profile to Blaine. The effort it was taking to keep his emotions under control was clear. He took a few long, steadying breaths before turning back. “Okay.” Always braver than Blaine could ever be, he put his hand out between them on the table, palm upwards. When Blaine slid his hand on top, Kurt’s fingers curled around him like they were made to hold him. “We can learn from this,” Kurt said.

Hope blooming in his chest, Blaine held onto Kurt’s hand like a lifeline. “We can.” It was just barely not a question.

“We can,” Kurt repeated. “What we have learned is that we both are very stubborn.”

“True.” Blaine couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

“We also learned that when we stop talking we make incredibly stupid assumptions.”

“Also true.”

“So we just need to keep talking.” Kurt met Blaine’s eyes, suddenly serious and kind of tentative. Blaine could see how much it was costing him to put it out there.

“I am completely and totally okay with that,” Blaine told him, putting his other hand palm up on the table.

Kurt let out a shaky breath and slipped his free hand into Blaine’s. “Okay,” he said, starting to smile.

“Okay.” Blaine smiled back.

They stared at each other for a moment before Kurt suddenly squeezed his hands tight. “Okay,” he said with finality and pulled back to lean more comfortably in his seat. Suddenly there he was, not the distant Kurt who had walked into the shop but Blaine’s amazing boyfriend, picking up his coffee and taking a sip like he’d done hundreds of times before in this very room. There he was.

“I’ve missed you,” Blaine said, because it was so, so true.

Kurt’s answer was soft and heartfelt over the rim of his cup. “I missed you, too.”

Blaine settled back in his own chair, his leg just happening to rest against Kurt’s beneath the table. The lump of anxiety in his stomach almost immediately disappeared. “Now tell me everything you’ve been doing,” he said. “I want to hear it all.”

“No.”

The lump came back with all of its friends. “No?”

Kurt tilted his head down and looked up at him through his lashes, a small smile on his lips. “No. Right now we should go somewhere a little more private so you can kiss me. _Then_ we can talk.”

“I like your plan better.” Unable to keep from grinning from the relief flooding through him, Blaine pushed his chair back and stood up, offering Kurt his hand.

Kurt smiled at him, warm and sure, and took it. “I thought you might.”


End file.
